


Magic Comes From Pain

by Granjolrass



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Dysphoria, Eventual Queliot, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Trans!Eliot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granjolrass/pseuds/Granjolrass
Summary: The moment Eliot Waugh found out he was a magician, he knew the shit hole that was his life had all been leading up to this moment. Suddenly he had a purpose, and he wasn't turning back. He had put too much time and effort into creating himself for that. Brakebills was his chance to finally be himself; to finally be Eliot.





	1. Some Narnia Level Shit

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a Trans!Eliot fic for a long time, so here it is! I really feel it meshes well with the idea of him putting so much time and effort into creating his persona. (but hey, maybe I'm just protecting ;) ) I also really wanted to explore both Eliot's and Margo's backstories, and this seemed like a great opportunity to do all three! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Queliot will come, but it's gonna be a hot second, so just sit tight! ;)

Eliot Waugh stared at the endless abyss that was his closet. Taking the room with the walk-in closet had seemed like a good idea when he and his roommate had moved to the on-campus apartment junior year, but really it had just given him an excuse to buy more clothes, and things had gotten a little out of hand. He pressed his mouth together into a frown. His favorite purple silk shirt had been missing for over a week now, since he had worn it at the end of semester party they had hosted for their graduating class. Eliot vaguely remembered a blonde-haired boy peeling the shirt off of him at some point after the vodka, but before the tequila. He had looked everywhere the next day, on the floor, under the bed, in the laundry, even places that made no sense. Ever since the condoms in the mayonnaise jar incident, he didn’t doubt his creativity when he was drunk. The only place he hadn’t actually checked was the closet. It was a long shot the he had actually put something where it belonged while he was wasted, but it was the only place left he could think to look. 

He stepped inside, and started on the right, his fingers flicking through hanger after hanger. “No. No. No.” He muttered to himself as he went along. When he had gone through the right side, he switched to the left, and had just as much luck. He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing this was useless, but hell, he had already come this far. He began to look through the back rack musing that he hadn’t been this deep in the closet since he was living in Indiana. After an hour of searching, he had found his missing Kenneth Cole dress shoe, a silk bowtie, and a box of sex toys he had nearly forgotten about, but no shirt. He was about to turn and give up when he saw something purple shoved on the floor towards the back of the closet. He pushed through the hangers to get a better look, but there wasn’t much light towards the back of his closet. He fumbled in the dark, groping around on the floor. As he reached back further, he scrunched up his face in confusion. He didn’t remember his closet being this deep. It was pitch black now. He felt up what he assumed was the back wall of his closet, and his hands stopped on something that felt suspiciously like a doorknob. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned it. 

Light poured into the closet and he squinted, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings. He seemed to be standing in some kind of classroom. There was a large circular window towards the ceiling. He watched dust particles float down to the floor lazily. Spinning around on his heels, he stared at the door he had come through. It was some sort of storage closet, filled with books and instruments he couldn’t quite place. His eyes widened in recognition. “Brakebills.” He said, in disbelief. 

“About damn time.” A deep voice said. Eliot whipped around on his heels. The voice belonged to a dark-skinned man in a tweed jacket. He stood there with his arms crossed. “Very good.” He said with a bored sigh. “I won’t need to give you the welcome speech then.” The sunlight from the window reflected off his bald head. “I usually don’t make house calls, but you’re a…particularly interesting case.” He said, giving him an appraising look. “Lets hope Maria was right about you.” He turned to face the door. “Now come along.” He said, exiting the room briskly. Eliot followed him hastily, unable to hide his grin. He was at Brakebills. He had made it. He straightened his shirt as they walked through a winding hallway. Finally, they arrived at a door and the man ushered Eliot inside, following behind him. He motioned for Eliot to take a seat. He sat down and took in his competition. There were no more than fifty people in the room. Most either looked confident, terrified, or downright confused. The girl sitting next to him was definitely in the confidant category. She cracked her neck, her long auburn hair swaying from side to side as she did so. She flexed her fingers, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, her gaze filled with superiority. He didn’t back down, his eyes meeting hers. It was going to be known that he was not someone to be messed with here. The familiar sound of a man clearing his throat made the room go silent. Eliot looked up at the front of the room. The man who had led him there stood in front of them. He introduced himself as Dean Fogg, gave minimal explanation, and then test papers and pencils appeared in front of them.

Eliot finished in 13 minutes. He could feel eyes on him as he walked to the front of the room and was ushered to the next portion of the examination. This part was even easier. He had only toyed around with his telekinesis a little since the incident back in Indiana, but it was enough to convince the professors and before he knew it, he was a student at Brakebills University. He exited the room, a smug grin on his face. This was it. His chest swelled with pride and he had the undeniable feeling that everything is his life had been leading up to this; all the pain, and loss, and loneliness. He took in a long breath as he headed for the exit. For the first time in his life, he felt like he could be himself, fully. He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. He had made it. He was finally home.


	2. Get in Loser, We're Going Shopping

His first few weeks at Brakebills had been relatively uneventful, other than the whole ‘holy shit, he was a magician’ thing. Not that he hadn’t known that going into this, but it still took some adjusting to. It was different than undergrad, back when he had to work so hard just to pass. Things were effortless now. People called him Eliot and assumed he was a man, and Eliot liked it just fine that way. It’s not that he was ashamed of being trans, it was just none of anyone’s god damn business. He had spent his years in college perfecting himself, and now, finally, he was somewhere where no one knew who he was. He could be whomever he wanted. And that was his plan.

It had taken 12 hours before he organized a party in the first year dorms. All in all everyone seemed to have a good time, they had only broken a few things, and no one ended up in the infirmary, so Eliot deemed it pretty successful. He had a vague memory of sucking off his roommate, but if he had, the guy had been unremarkable. Eliot preferred sucking guys off if it was just a quick hookup. First of all, cock was fucking magnificent, and second guys usually were more than happy to leave satisfied without reciprocating. Eliot had learned in undergrad that he had to really want to get laid to expend the energy to explain what to do with his anatomy to a cis guy. At any rate, between the parties and the debauchery, it didn’t take long before he had a reputation on campus.

He stretched out on the lawn chair he was currently lounging on. He had made a habit of coming out to the lawn to sun himself and people-watch, because fuck if he came to school to study. If he learned anything from his brief time living in New York City, it was that sunglasses were an excellent way to size people up without attracting too much attention. He glanced at the students milling about on the lawn. There were some upperclassmen girls sitting on the grass chattering loudly about some professor, a boy trying way too hard to master some simple Popper exercises, and a guy who looked like an Abercrombie model leaning against a tree and chatting with a similarly dressed guy in who was sporting a backwards baseball cap. Eliot slid down his glasses slightly to check out Abercrombie’s ass; average, at best. He sighed woefully, sliding his glasses back up his nose with a finger. So far the pickings at this school had been slim. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking solace in the thought that the boys here couldn’t be worse than the ones back in Purchase. The whistling of a catcall broke him out of his trance. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at the girl who had sat next to him during the entrance exam, the one with the resting bitch face. Her lips curled into a smile that was filled with venom. But Abercrombie didn’t seem to get the memo.

“Hey baby, if I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” He said, giving her a nod and grinning as his friend egged him on. Eliot had no idea how she managed to have enough grace to just flip him off. There were a handful of things he missed about presenting as female, being catcalled by douchebags was not one of them. Abercrombie grinned. 

“Come on baby,” He said, blowing a kiss at her. “Give me a smile.” Eliot felt a pang in his chest. That struck a chord. He slid his glasses down his nose. Before Abercrombie knew what was happening, his pants were around his ankles. He doubled over, trying to pull them back up. The group of girls was giggling uncontrollably.

“Nice tighty-whities.” Eliot said, smirking and replacing his glasses as Abercrombie ran off, tripping over his pants, his backwards hat cronie following closely behind. He had to admit, his telekinesis was growing on him.

The girl approached him, her arms folded. She was gorgeous, in a terrifying kind of way. 

“That was very Lindsay Lohan circa Parent Trap of you.”

Eliot smiled. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.” He said, sitting up. “Eliot.” He offered, sliding his glasses up to rest is his hair.

“Margo.” She replied, moving his legs and sitting on the end of the lawn chair. She gave him a long look of appraisal and then gave a calculated smile. “I like you.” She decided, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And let’s face it, we’re the best dressed people at this school. I propose an alliance.”

Eliot grinned. “Where I come from, we call that friendship.”

“Call it whatever you want.” She said, crossing her legs. “You’re the only person at this school who’s in my league.” She smirked. “How would you feel about a shopping trip. You clearly don’t have anything better to do.” 

He feigned a look of offense, putting his hand on his chest. “Rude! I’ll have you know evening out my complexion is very important.”

Margo smirked. “Come on, compliments of daddy.” She said, slipping out a credit card. “We’ll call it a thank you, even though I didn’t need your help.” 

He smiled, giving a nod of ascent. He’d only known Margo for a total of three minutes, but he already better than to argue with her. She looked him up and down. “Have you ever thought about vests?” She asked. Eliot quirked an eyebrow. She just smiled. “Trust me.”


End file.
